


Perceptions

by EllieCee



Series: Loves me like I'm brand new [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, also as always racist orlesians, and intra-community prejudices, deals with exotification and orientalism, mentions of colorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: From a Tumblr sappy line prompt: "i thought you didn't want me"Imryll deals with the kind of prejudice that cuts deep.





	Perceptions

**Author's Note:**

> I decided I’d try something different for this - I know I’ve mentioned that Cullen intially feels insecure in their relationship due to his past and his view of his self-worth. But I want to explore Imryll’s insecurities now too.
> 
> This may be a bit ~heavy. People say there’s no colorism or anything in Thedas and that racism only exists between humans and non-humans, but lore says otherwise. Duncan and Vivienne, and even Fiona have suffered from this, so I want to tackle it with Imryll. As a woc, I want to put this into my story as a way of catharsis - it’s something I still deal with and it’s important to me.
> 
> That being said, this little snippet contains mentions of colorism, exotification, and things akin to orientalism. 
> 
> This also takes place in canon-verse, where the Inquisitor is Imryll’s cousin Tala and she’s just the alchemist.

It was a small brochure she’d seen before the Winter Palace: “Madame Margaux’s True Noble Lady”. It was somehow amongst the papers, and Imryll picked it up, puzzled, shuffling through the pages.

 

“A real, elegant lady is tall, shapely, and has porcelain skin. Light-eyed and tow-headed women exude gracefulness.”

 

Imryll narrowed her eyes at the painting by those words - a simple human woman, with long locks of golden hair and creamy skin. Under it was sketched, “The Ideal Woman”. A tingle fluttered through her chest as she flipped the page once more.

 

“Mail 2 sovereigns for Madame Margaux’s Pearl Soap, be the ideal woman and brighten your complexion today.”

 

“Darling, don’t look at that garbage.”

 

Imryll had nearly dropped the brochure.

 

She hadn’t noticed that Vivienne had come up to the tower, arms full of the freshly dried herbs they’d set out last night. 

 

“That is utter garbage,” Vivienne mumbled, setting down the herbs and flasks, “Some people are narrow-minded enough to have restrictions on what beauty is.”

 

She held out her hand for Imryll to hand her the brochure. It only took a second for her to rip it in half.

 

“I rather think some nobles here feel frustrated at your presence. Mine and Lady Montilyet’s as well. We’ve received the same ridiculous brochures too,” Vivienne mused, turning her head away for a minute. A quake of hurt spilled out of her voice for a second as she looked at the window in silence. 

 

“Vivienne?”

 

Vivienne snapped her head back and took a deep breath.

 

“Pay them no mind, darling,” she continued, urging her voice to level, “So shall we? These poultices won’t make themselves.”

 

* * *

 

_“Did the sun burn hotter in Seheron?” Adwen quipped._

_It’d been the third day since they’ve merged with Clan Lavellan, but Imryll could already figure out when Adwen’s face threatened to say something snarky._

_“Why?” she asked, keeping composure.  
_

_“Because your skin is brown and your eyes are small,” Adwen cackled, “Must’ve burned you and your whole family then.”  
_

_Imryll pushed down the sob that nearly burst out of her throat. Before she could attempt a response, Deshanna swooped in from the side, swatting at Adwen._

* * *

 

Halamshiral took a toll in Imryll’s bones. It was different toll from trekking across the Western Approach. The orange lights from the chandelier and the jangling of jewelry made the place feel insidious. 

 

 _Well, you are here to stop a murder,_ Imryll muttered to herself. She straightened the skirt of her dress, feeling exposed and saturated compared to all the other bodies there. 

 

The whispers that followed her as she passed by wrung her nerves almost as terrible as the thought of failing to stop the assassination. 

 

_“Do all elves from Seheron look like that?”  
_

 

_“Why are her eyes so small?”  
_

 

_“She’s pretty in a unique way…almost exotic.”  
_

 

_“Elves here are prettier. If I had to pick an elf I wouldn’t go to Seheron.”_

 

She watched as Tala mingled with Josephine and her sister, wondering how she felt so carefree around whispers of the “Strange Seheron elves.”

 

She passed them, attempting to find a quiet corner.

 

“The Lady Montilyets are here,” she heard from a nobleman, “I suppose they’re pretty for Antivans. Too swarthy for my taste.”

 

Imryll felt a dull throb in her chest. She wanted to leave - but they cannot go until they finish this mission. 

 

Perhaps Cullen would be standing in a quiet corner, he always managed to find -

 

_Oh._

 

A crowd surrounded him by an open window. A total number for four ladies and three men, clamoring at something, their voices talking to fast for Imryll to make anything out. She watched as Cullen painfully and politely attempted to ease them off. 

 

Cullen caught her eye and Imryll felt her chest flutter.

 

“There you are,” he said in relief, as the people around him murmured. 

 

“You’ve gathered quite a following,” she joked. 

 

“They’ve all either asked for a dance or my hand in marriage,” he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. 

 

Imryll laughed. 

 

“Well, if you don’t mind…would you save a dance for me?” 

 

“Sorry, no,” Cullen said curtly. 

 

Imryll felt dull blow to her stomach.

 

“What?”

 

Suddenly, Cullen’s face turned 80 shades of red. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been turning down everyone,” he replied, “But I um…I don’t know how to dance I’m afraid.”

 

Before Imryll could reply, a nobleman burst through the small gathering, a young woman behind him.

 

“Ahhh, Commander Cullen,” the man greeted, “I am Lord Etienne Maillard, and this is my lovely daughter Victoire.”

 

He presented the woman, clad in fine Orlesian silks. Her long, wispy, almost silver hair fell down to her waist. Her skin was the color of pearls in contrast to the rich velvet blue of her dress.

 

“How do you do, Lady Victoire,” Cullen said, struggling through the greeting.

 

She held out her hand and Cullen kissed it, as Imryll’s stomach sank to her feet. 

 

Victoire was a head taller than her, and her dress didn’t lump up in places her’s did. She felt small. 

 

“Commander, if I could say,” Lord Etienne said, “My daughter has just debuted in society and my family is has strong connections to the military.”

 

Imryll could hear the wink in his voice.

 

Cullen nodded, standing stiff. 

 

“That sounds wonderful, my lord,” he replied. 

 

“Would you save her a dance? A Fereldan general would look great dancing with an Orlesian noblewoman don’t you say?”

 

“I…uh…”

 

Lord Etienne gave Imryll a quick, dirty glance. 

 

“Consider it,” he said, “Victoire is a fine and ideal woman. Fair and lovely.”

 

Cullen took a deep breath. 

 

“I’ll consider.”

 

Imryll had never turned her heel so quick. The pounding of her chest and the dry feeling of her throat muffled out Cullen calling for her - if he really was.

 

* * *

 

Hearing Tala call out Florianne was satisfying in more ways than one. Imryll watched from behind a column, her heart racing as she clung onto every word Tala said. She wondered how her cousin had pulled it off, but she did. She caught Tala’s hand trembling as Florianne was taken away, but that was a nervous tic only she’d noticed. She smiled as Tala gave a victorious smile to the advisers.

 

Halamshiral had calmed down once again. It was amazing and ridiculous to watch Orlesians quickly switch back to festivities. Imryll wondered how one can do that, as she was worn out. She watched as Tala took Josephine by the hand and led her out a balcony. 

 

She chuckled to herself. Leliana was going to kill Tala.

 

She decided perhaps she needed air as well. She quickly found an empty balcony and walked out, letting the fresh air from the gardens cool her down. She wanted to sleep. 

 

“Are you all right?”

 

She turned to find Cullen, standing awkwardly at threshold, scratching at his neck.

 

She’d almost forgotten, amidst all the commotion. 

 

“Yes,” she lied, straightening out her dress. She might’ve felt pretty earlier that night, but now she felt like a lumpy mess. She wished he couldn’t see her. 

 

“Y-you looked a bit shaky,” he said, “I was worried. Do you want me to stay with you?”

 

Imryll hesitated for a minute, but the softness in her eyes caused her to give. 

 

“Yes please,” she almost heaved. She hadn’t realized how hard she was clutching on the banister. 

 

She felt a comforting hand on her back.

 

“Imryll, breathe. You’re all right now,” Cullen said softly. 

 

Cullen let her squeeze his hand. Imryll felt heat rush to her cheeks. 

 

“Thank you,” she replied. He smiled.

 

“Imryll?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Cullen took a deep breath.

 

“There’s some things I want to tell you, but at the moment I…,” he stuttered, “We can still hear the music from here and before I lose my chance I just want to ask…”

 

Imryll looked at him, puzzled, as he stood before her and bent his knee.

 

“May I have this dance, my lady,” he said, holding his hand out. 

 

A swarm of moths fluttered in Imryll’s stomach, her eyes growing wide. 

 

“I t-thought you didn’t want me,” she blurted from shock.

 

Cullen’s eyes glazed with bewilderment. 

 

“Why would you think that? Out of all the women here tonight, you were the only one I wanted.”

 

The air felt quiet and still, despite Imryll’s thudding heart. 

 

“Cullen,” she whispered as she took his hand. He pulled her close as they attempted to sway to the music. 

 

“I look like a mess,” Imryll said. 

 

“No, you look perfect,” Cullen replied, his cheeks reddening.

 

* * *

 

It was later, when Imryll headed to her room that she met Vivienne in the hallway. 

 

“I told the Inquisitor to have a good night’s rest,” she said, smiling, “You two aren’t as incompetent as I’d thought.”

 

Imryll returned it.

 

“And Imryll, darling?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re beautiful. Tala is beautiful. So am I and Lady Montilyet,” Vivienne said, in almost a whisper, “Narrow perceptions and beliefs aren’t the truth.”


End file.
